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Amanda Farquharson is a fine artist from Dundas, Ontario. Her work is cheerful, colourful, bright, and explores themes of nature, family, animals, and memory.

Double Plunger Walk Of Shame

Double Plunger Walk Of Shame

Plunger Walk Of Shame

I'm having a rough week and it seems a thousand things are going wrong. As in my previous post, I have completely lost control of my apartment and eating habits. Jay got so fed up with the Brita water smelling like rotting vegetation that he finally spearheaded a movement to clean out my fridge, which I had just stopped opening. (Duh, if it smells bad when you open the door, stop opening the door.)

We got bad news yesterday morning but I felt that I was emotionally stable enough to help move my friend to a new apartment just down the street so Jay and I put on our comfiest moving clothes and spent the morning pretending that I am a normal, functioning adult person.

When we got back to our apartment I got a call from Brenna asking if I could please bring a plunger to her apartment. Jay looked totally repulsed at the thought of walking down the street with me holding a plunger, even though I had never used it. So I carefully wrapped it in a garbage bag and washed my hands three times so he would agree to hold my hand while walking.

Garbage bags are good disguises for everything.

Brenna was slightly panicky by the time we reached her house and took off in the direction of the bathroom with the plunger and a fierce look of determination on her face. Jay and I went on the porch to chat with my cousins, who were visiting. After a while of chatting, I got a text from Brenna (literally 15 steps away, inside) that said "Come inside NOW." Which I did because you don't mess with Brenna when she writes in caps.

So my untried and untested plunger was actually not a plunger. It was more like a rubber-ended stick that likes to be turned inside out and float like a boat on the toilet seas.

In other words: My plunger was a useless piece of garbage that is now IN the garbage.

There was only one thing to do (after, of course, hiding in Brenna's room and taking deep breaths and counting to ten 4 times). We walked to the hardware store.

Anyone who has left guests on their porch with no working bathroom facilities while they trek to a hardware store at 10 minutes to the store's closing time on a Saturday can probably guess how Brenna and I felt.

We made it just in time. No thanks to the man who, as we passed by, yelled "I want your babies! I WANT TO SEE THEM CRY."


Testing out the plunger on the hardware store floor led us to the most suctioneriffic brand and after we managed to pop those babies off the floor, we bought them.

It was only after we turned down bags and were halfway down the block that we realized we were on a Double Plunger Walk Of Shame. I had a mental image of what I might have thought passing two girls both carrying industrial strength plungers down the street, but all I could imagine were terrible things so I tried, again, to pretend like I was a real functioning person.

This fragile facade started to slip partway home and cracked completely as I elbowed Brenna out of the way and used my patented plunging technique (learned from my old roommate, she is a GENIUS). As it sent Jay and Brenna into gales of laughter, I plunged more and more furiously. Jay commented through his laughter that "this could not possibly work" which made me whip my head around and make my scariest and meanest face at both of them, still plunging like a maniac.

I vaguely remember Brenna saying something about me being insane and possessed by the devil but I had reached a point beyond caring. I was NOT sane and functioning, I was INSANE and I WAS GOING TO UNCLOG THIS TOILET GODDAMMIT.

With one last furious splash of the plunger of death the toilet made a sucking noise and everything went down in one fell swoosh.


Then I promptly went and lay down on the bed and fought off tears.

"Jason, do you still love me? Even though you just witnessed that?"



Background photo can be found here.

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